Io Sogno d'Anime
by Ms. Kreatopita
Summary: Eight different men...five entirely different worlds! While the members of Il Divo get separated and thrown into unfamiliar anime universes, Sanzo, Sven, Kisuke, and Hidan must learn quickly, with Yuko's help, what it means to maintain international fame!
1. Prologue

**Disclaimers:**** Alright, these disclaimers are gonna cover the entire story because I hate repeating myself. Again, I hate repeating myself! **

**I do not own Il Divo, that's Simon Cowell's job. Nor do I own any rights to their songs, recordings, concerts, underwear, whatever! Their character representations for this story are entirely fictional and are designed purely for entertainment. I do not own Saiyuki, Black Cat, Bleach, Naruto, et al. **

**Io Sogno d'Anime**

Prologue: Setting the Pieces

_Nella fantasia io vedo un mondo giusto,  
Lì tutti vivono in pace e in onestà.  
Io sogno d'anime che sono sempre libere,  
Come le nuvole che volano,  
Pien d'umanità in fondo all'anima._

In my imagination I see a righteous world  
Where everybody lives in peace and honesty  
I dream of souls always free  
Like clouds that fly  
Full of humanity deep inside

_-(Nella Fantasia)_

**Il Divo-----------------------------------------Their Counterparts**

David Miller ---------------------------- Genjyo Sanzo

Sèbastien Izambard -------------------- Sven Vollfied

Urs Bühler ------------------------------ Kisuke Urahara

Carlos Marín ---------------------------- Hidan

* * *

"…your turn, Sanzo. Raise or fold? Sanzo? Stop that humming and play, you good-for-nothing priest!" 

Startled, the hummer in question snapped back into reality. In front of Sanzo sat his three traveling companions at the table in their hotel room. There was Gojyo, the pervert of a kappa who had brought Sanzo back to earth; the annoying-ass monkey boy Goku, who snacked on a bag of Fritos while staring at his hand; finally, Hakkai, who merely looked on with a smile, as usual.

Sanzo had not even realized that he had been unconsciously voicing the song that came to his head. Not that he knew the words, that's why he hummed. But for the past couple of nights, the song seemed to pester him more than a starved Goku. Where he had heard it, he could not rightly recall; nevertheless, like a tangible thing, it traveled in the jeep with him, dined with him, and even visited in his dreams.

It was starting to get pretty damn annoying.

Focusing on his poker cards again, Sanzo tried not to grunt in disappointment. A two, three, five, six, and eight appeared to be laughing back at him, totally crushing his odds for this round. However, he could not let the cocky kappa or monkey know that, so he flicked a coin into the pot and grunted, "I raise by ten."

The others complied, and now it was time to reveal the hands. Gojyo went first, grinning ecstatically before dramatically slapping his cards on the table. "Straight flush, baby! Try to beat that, meatwads!" He sniggered and began to draw a long drag from his cigarette.

Goku merely stared before ceremoniously laying his five cards on the table; a royal flush. Gojyo practically choked on his cancer stick, Hakkai chuckled in disbelief, and Sanzo simply roled his eyes. Like clockwork, Gojyo began to contest the odds of the stupid chibi monkey having a royal flush, and how he must have rigged the cards beforehand just to make him look stupid. The argument escalated to physical fighting in a matter of seconds, with Hakkai scurrying in the middle to "cease this childish behavior." Alas, at precisely the most opportune moment, Sanzo took out his trademark paper fan and proceeded to whack the animals upside the head.

"Shut the hell up, right now!" ordered Sanzo, the vein in his forehead throbbing erratically. "Or next time you'll have lead in your head!" Gojyo and Goku, knowing that shooting a gun was like breathing to the priest, quickly cowered and closed their mouth. Sure that he had caught their attention, Sanzo continued, "It's getting late, anyhow. I'm going to bed…"

* * *

"Doo doo-oo doo-ee doo…" Hidan had become bored of waiting for Kakuzu to reemerge from the depths of the lavatory in which he made so many business deals. Out in the open air, Hidan sat on the stone steps and leaned on his three-bladed scythe, murmuring a tune that had been stuck in his head. He didn't remember where he had heard it from, nor did he care, frankly; it gave him something to do. Besides, something about the melody soothed him deep down inside, a feeling he normally got only after intensive prayer to Jashin. 

Hidan gazed at the setting sun and sighed.

Just then, a stone panel slid out of place in the wall behind him, and out came Kakuzu. The latter stuffed some loose bills in his Akatsuki cloak as he paced towards his partner, with dull, dead eyes glaring blankly.

"Conducting business in there is bad for your health, you know," pointed out Hidan, "not like you would care about that, though."

Kakuzu simply nodded his head north, and in a flash, both ninjas sprinted away towards the hideout.

Once there, Hidan's body finally began to register the fatigue from his ventures earlier in the day. Immortal or not, his chakra needed a boost before heading back out to face those bigots from Konoha again. Tiredness weighed his body down like bricks, though he could think of any plausible reason for it. _Maybe_, Hidan thought as he reached his corner of the cave, _I need to cut down a bit on the self-mutilation a bit_.

Adjusting his Akatsuki robe around him, he seated himself down against the slate wall and closed his eyes.

* * *

"Sven, I didn't know you could sing." Eve lowered her book in order to observe her guardian more closely. 

The singer, (in actuality, more like hummer), in question took his eyes of the road for a second to glance back. Apparently, the little princess had not been too caught up in her reading to ignore the quiet, melodic humming coming from the driver's seat. Sven smiled. He expected nothing less from Eve's refined sense of hearing. People like Train, on the other hand…In the front passenger's seat Sven glowered disapprovingly at his partner who slept like one in a coma.

Eve's voice chimed in again. "What's the name of the song?"

This actually caused Sven to turn his head back to the morning-lit town ahead, because to his surprise, he did not hold the answer. For several moments, he racked through his mind, considering where he could have heard it before. No use. It was like the song had just…come to him.

Weird.

"You know, I'm not entirely sure. Maybe it's in another language," Sven decided to answer. Knowing a song yet not knowing how the hell to pronounce the title seemed like a socially acceptable thing, and he hoped Eve would think that too.

"But how could anyone be uncertain whether or not a song is in another language?" retorted Eve. _Ouch_, thought Sven. "Where did you hear it?"

"No idea," sighed Sven.

"Then how do you know the song?" Eve began to press on.

Just then, Train awoke and stretched his long limbs out in the tiny car, almost punching Sven in the face. Grunting, the Black Cat straightened himself up in his seat and peeked out the window as the vehicle pulled into the small two-story Sweeper hideout.

"Oh yes!" exclaimed Train, suddenly energized. "Finally, a warm, cozy bed and a roof over our head! Should make up for the crappy luck we've had with bounties lately," he added slyly.

"Shut up! The only reason we haven't had a decent catch in a while is because you haven't taken the time to go to the IBI office and check the lists!" Sven hopped out of the car and went straight into the safe house. He was not in the mood to worry about money or tunes that randomly popped in his head. All night he had driven, and he was dog tired. Ascending the stairs and entering an empty bedroom, it occurred to him that perhaps extreme fatigue caused people to imagine music in their heads. _That's probably it, I'm going bonkers_, thought Sven as he collapsed onto the bed.

* * *

"Uh, boss…" inquired a petite pig-tailed girl peeking into the shop. "Why are you dancing with my broom?" 

The broom dancer in question seemed too preoccupied in waltzing around his shop, "la"-ing out a pretty song in B-flat major. He had even gone so far as to crown the broom with his trademark green and white striped hat. Now, wondering who had disturbed his serenade, Kisuke Urahara whipped his head around curiously until he lay eyes on his young helper Ururu. Realizing what he was doing, he calmly reclaimed his hat and handed the broom back to Ururu.

"When you grow up and get out in the real world," explained Kisuke, "there will be times when life is gonna suck really badly, and the only thing that will keep you from losing your sanity is random outbursts of silliness!" He flashed his lazy smile and followed Ururu outside to check how the chores were coming along.

Before having barely stepped out the door, a stick came out of nowhere and jabbed little Ururu square in the chest, causing her to fall back onto Kisuke. Over her stood a haughty Jinta, who glowered at her with spite, his mop aimed.

"Why did you run off, you sissy-pants? Mr. Urahara wanted us to clear the front, and I told you to do my share…" Jinta then noticed who exactly stood behind his victim. At first he didn't speak, but his stubbornness rekindled when he saw Kisuke helping Ururu up. "She started it, I tell you! She's been slacking off and talking back to me ever since-"

"My shop is not a playground for immature tikes," stated Kisuke firmly. "Both of you just keep to yourselves and learn to cooperate. Do what Mr. Tessai says." And with a silence of finality, he pivoted on the spot and clacked back to the shop in his wooden sandals, humming the song from earlier. It was time for his afternoon nap.

* * *

A world tour. Again. David Miller could not believe it. The fame, the publicity, the constant hopping around to the corners of the globe; it didn't daunt him now, but what it had taken for him and his three companions to make it to where they were today blew David's mind away. To go from nothing to internationally acclaimed men in a matter of years had been a rapid, never easy task. 

Now David leaned against the hotel balcony, a glass of wine in his hand, overlooking the twinkling London skyline below. Their tour would begin here, in jolly old England, mainly due to Simon Cowell, and from there the scenery from the balcony would keep changing.

David downed the rest of his glass.

There he stood for five minutes, watching the glows and flickers of the darkened city beyond. Finally, he came back into the hotel room to find that his friends had quieted down. In fact, having come to David's room for wine and conversation hours before, the other three Divos were already fast asleep. Sèbastien lay sideways on David's bed, Urs dozed quietly across the couch, and Carlos had nodded off in his chair, slightly snoring. Glancing at his Rolex watch, David decided that perhaps he should hit the hay as well. For a minute, he considered waking the others and sending them back to their rooms, but the peacefulness on their sleeping faces kept him from acting. Thus, David lightly nudged Sebby over a few inches and snuggled up in the empty space on the bed. Once he was comfortable, he closed his eyes.

* * *

Once Sanzo was comfortable, he closed his eyes. 

Within moments, Sanzo and David were both fast asleep.

* * *

**Next chapter: _Sanzo is Suddenly American_! **


	2. Sanzo is Suddenly American

**Io Sogno d'Anime**

Canzone Primo: Sanzo is Suddenly American

_I used to think that I was strong_

_I realize now I was wrong_

'_Cause every time I see your face_

_My mind becomes an empty space_

_And with you lying next to me_

_Feels like I can hardly breathe_

_I close my eyes_

_The moment I surrender to you_

_Let love be blind_

_Innocent and tenderly true_

_So lead me through tonight_

_But please turn out the light_

'_Cause I'm lost every time I look at you_

_-(Every Time I Look at You)_

Sunlight danced into the room, jumping from the balcony and escorting the morning. The light hit Sanzo's eyelids, causing him to stir and ascend from his dream world. Hand over his eyes, he slowly rolled over on the bed. Before he could make a full turn onto his stomach, though, Sanzo felt an obstruction in his way.

"Gojyo, you drew the short stick for bed arrangements last night," he murmured, still half-asleep. "Now get the hell off the bed before I shoot your – ah!" Sanzo removed his hand completely away from his eyes to see not the dirty kappa, but rather an older man, with green hair and an eyepatch, sprawled out on his tummy and still dozing. However, having been rolled on, the strange man yawned and stretched out his limbs.

"Morning, Eve," he grunted, "Did you get a good night's – HOLY CRAP!" Sven practically jumped ten feet in the air when he realized that a blond man, rather than girl, lingered over him. Instantly he sat upright and surveyed his surroundings. This certainly was not the dinky little hideout that Sven had fallen asleep in. It appeared to be more like a very posh hotel room, with Romantic era décor and paintings, rich mahogany furniture, a crystal mini-chandelier, and a sliding window leading out to a furnished balcony barred with black iron. Just by touching the warm down feather mattress beneath him, Sven knew that this certainly belonged to some rich son of a gun, and it sure as hell was not supposed to be him.

At that moment, both Sven and Sanzo turned their head in unison towards the sofa. Yet another unknown man was waking from his slumber, this one with straw-colored hair that reached his neck and a lanky complexion. He rubbed his eyes and let out a loud yawn, then muttered, "Ooh, I don't remember the floor being this comfy!" Not completely lucid, he rolled over on his side and fell right off the couch with a rattling THUNK!.

"Gah, sonuva…," griped Kisuke, rotating onto his hands and knees and lifting himself up. He rubbed the sore spot where his head had met the carpet so hard that it took a minute to regain his bearings. Once the world stopped spinning around him, Kisuke's brain registered the two men on the bed who had been staring at him wide-eyed. Both wore disheveled white dress shirts and slacks, and when Kisuke looked down, he saw that he was dressed similarly. His hand went immediately to his head; where was his beloved green and white striped hat?! That thing was like his best friend, or if nothing else, a security blanket that covered his eyes and made him look all sexy and mysterious. Or at least that's how he enjoyed thinking about it. Not even his wooden sandals appeared anywhere in sight. In that chilling moment, Kisuke considered the possibility of these clothes not even being his. He discreetly slipped his hand behind his back and down his pants to make sure…

Yikes. That was _definitely_ not his underwear.

Trying to let all this get to his head, Kisuke shakily supported himself on a nearby table, but had put his weight on it too quickly. The table shifted, and a half-full glass of red wine swayed before toppling over and leaking its contents all over. Slowly, the wine flowed its way towards a fourth and final man whom none of the three had acknowledged before hand. Unlike the others, his hair was pearly white, and he slept soundly in the dining chair, head resting on his chest. They all noticed a pendant of an inverted triangle enclosed in a circle hanging from his neck. Unfortunately, the wine had trickled onto the man's lap, making him flinch and awake instantly. Kisuke smartly backed away, tripping backwards and squishing Sven by accident.

"OOMPH!" cried Sven, pushing Kisuke off of him, "What the –"

"Dammit!" interrupted the fourth man in such an excruciating voice that the blond man who had just gotten up fell back down again in surprise. "Gods dammit!" Hidan sprang up from his seat to examine the damage; a giant, crimson splotch soaked the crotch of his khaki slacks and splattered on his white shirt. Wait…he checked his clothes again, then whipped his head around. Where the hell was his Akatsuki cloak? Where did his prized three-bladed scythe go? Hidan then realized that this was not the dank, underground hideout he was accustomed to…Had he been whisked away to some strange Kage's palace? Or had he finally pleased Jashin and achieved nirvana? Hidan glanced down at his pants again; dark red drinks that reeked of alcohol did not spill on the pants of one in eternal rest.

"Oh…my…god. I'm so sorry," gasped Kisuke, who had finally wrestled his way off the bed and approached Hidan. "Let me wash that stain out with some –"

Clutching the pendant around his neck, the latter quickly slapped Urahara's hand away, curtly objecting, "Don't touch me, cretin! Who told you the location of our hideout? Where are Itachi and Deidara? By Jashin, I swear, if you're from Konoha…"

"Odd," Sven broke in, "For a second I thought _I_ was the one being held for ransom, by Creed or someone, in order to lure Train."

Sanzo shook his head. "Doubtful. Youkai wouldn't have the skills to maintain such a high-class headquarters…unless Kougaiji and his band of ass-kissers had excavated all of Shangri-la."

"Shangri-la?" Kisuke cut in, tilting his head in confusion, "Don't you mean the Soul Society? It's a common misconception, since it is like heaven on earth, except you're actually dead and stuff…"

Finally, the four ceased their muddle of speech and stared at each other. Not one of the men knew anything about what the other three were talking about. Obviously, none of them appeared to be from the same region, or even country for that matter. But the rift felt disturbingly deeper than that. What the hell was going on?

"_Nella fantasia, doo doo-ee-ah doo da da-oh…_"

The next thing Hidan knew, the two blondes and the man with the eye patch were ogling him, dumbfounded. All he had done was hum out of nervousness, that's what he always did to avoid awkward bouts of silence. Now the utter stillness that followed proved to be suffocating. It took several moments for Kisuke to break it.

"Sing that again, louder this time," ordered Urahara. Insecure though he was, Hidan complied, clearing his throat and repeating the musical phrase. Out came a rich, baritone voice which glided tenderly at the quiet segments and became strong and soulful during the moving, powerful parts. Sanzo and Sven were blown away, and both mouthed "Da-amn!" at the same time. Kisuke simply stepped closer and indicated, "Nice, but you know the second verse is supposed to go like this, right?" He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

"_Nella fantasia io vedo un mondo chiaro,_

_Li anche la notte è meno oscura…_"

Now it was Hidan's turn to gaze in awe; what he had just experienced was perhaps the most unusual voice he had ever heard, and not in a bad way. It was almost as though the man with the lazy smile had glass vocal chords, which seemed to extract a certain unique characteristic of the voice that he couldn't quite make out. Sven recognized that this kind of singing from having heard sacred music at his synagogue as a young man. Before he could stop himself, the Sweeper picked up the melody where it had been left off.

"_Io sogno d'anime che sono sempre libere_…"

Sven's voice pierced through that of the other two like a sunbeam. If Goku had to explain it, he would have probably said that it was like the vein of filling in the center of a mint chocolate, considered Sanzo. Indeed, this rough, eye patch-wearing man sang like a youth in his twenties, able to sound tender and soft most of the time and then suddenly mature his voice to add to the strength of Hidan and Kisuke. Just thinking about that caused words to bubble in the priest's throat, and try as he could to keep them down, they burst forward without warning.

"_Come le nuvole che volano,  
Pien d'umanità in fondo all'anima_…"

The other three men did not expect this. Instantly, they paused what they were doing to gape at Sanzo, dumbfounded. Had that operatic voice just come out of that twenty-something year old, purple-eyed blond guy? Was that even humanly possible? By god, his voice was more flexible than Kisuke's work schedule! Sanzo simply looked away like it was no big deal and became preoccupied with mopping up the spilt wine with a cloth. But the rest stood there for a second and uttered their disbelief simultaneously so it sounded something like "holy frapituckonastick" before joining him. Together, all four cleaned up the accident best they could, washing out wine stains and, in Hidan's case, scrounging the strange room for any unblemished attire to change into.

A series of short knocks severed the silence, causing them to freeze. Sanzo had stopped wringing out a towel in the sink, fearing a youkai was at the door. Hidan paused in the middle of tying a fluffy bathrobe around him, on guard for any enemy shinobi. Sven remained crouched on the floor and ready to take cover if a volley of bullets flew their way. Only Kisuke had any reason to lack caution, and thus placed the wine glass back on the table and slinked over to the door. With a little squeal, the door rotated inward on its hinges, exposing a slender woman with pale moon skin, raven black hair, and garnet eyes. Slowly, casually, she let herself into the room and looked around wistfully, eyeing each of the four men.

Sven rose to his feet and barely the silence with a hushed, "Who are you?"

The mysterious woman glided in the Sweeper's direction and stroked a long, white finger down his cheek. "Oh yes, I can see why you took the place of Sébastien," she purred, turning around to meet the other three with the same seductive gaze. "Please, join me for a chat on the balcony, boys. I want to get to know my victims – I mean, starlets before tomorrow tonight's show."

"W-wait a minute, what?" intervened Sanzo. "Starlets? Show? What do you –"

She put her hand up to stop him. "My name is Yuko; the time-space witch, and a part-time stage manager of the internationally famed group Il Divo."

**Next time: We find out what's become of the other Divos as they wake up in their counterparts' world **_**David is Suddenly Buddhist!**_


End file.
